


Mick Kannick and MazAdam

by islasands



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Future Fic, Other, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick Kannick wants a car but he doesn't want a Hover. He wants a car that likes chewing up the road, not the air. He finally finds just the car he wants - a beat up but still classy Maserati. It is an unbelievable added bonus when the car says he can call him 'Maz" for short. Fun's gonna start when Mick discovers that Maz has an AI upload of Adam Lambert's brain. AND he can transform...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mick Kannick and MazAdam

“But why so cheap?” Mick asked. “It’s gotta be a piece of shit. Even with a carcase this beat up -” he slammed his arm on the bonnet – “a Maz is still a Maz.”

The car salesman shrugged. “Well, I guess you’re right. I guess it _is_ a collector’s item. But it’s all hover now. Even the boy-racers want to fly. I could do you a cheap hover, if you want. There’s no chance of  poota-over-ride, though, if you wanna burn up some oxygen. Only the later models are big brother hackable.”

Mick walked around the car. “It’s on shit?” he asked.

“Hell yeah. What do you think! I ain’t seen a fossil fuel  for – I don’t know!” The salesman wrenched the boot open. “See! It’s got direct dump or the usual tank.”

“I can smell it,” Mick said.

“Take it for a spin,” the salesman said. He slid the car keys across the car roof. “And don’t forget to come back.” He wandered off. Truth be told he didn’t care if the kid didn’t bring it back. It was a heap of shit that ran on shit. Maybe he should have told him just how big a heap. He’d sold the damn thing how many times? The stories people told trying to get their money back. The accidents they claimed had been caused by the car. The last purchaser who returned the car claimed the damn thing had a mind of its own. He’d bought it for his teenage son. He wanted him to thrash something other than the family hover. Claimed it drove his son right through a goddamn mall. The car did it! Not his useless son!

He heard the Maz revving up. He watched as it sped past him and out of the sales yard. Oh here we go, the salesman thought. I’ll see you in the spring-time.

But Mick did return, and didn’t even haggle over the price.

“Sign here,” the salesman said. “Mick Kannick? Where you from, boy?” But Mick didn’t reply.

“You got yourself a real bargain there,” the salesman called out.

Mick got into the car. He turned the key. The old fashioned regulation poota  whirred and whined, lights flashing.

“How old are you anyway?” a voice said. It was a strange voice, not at all robotic.  More to the point, it was strangely conversational. “Describe yourself.”

“Not here,” Mick said. He wondered if the salesman knew the Maz was harbouring some hi-specs AI.

“That wanker wouldn’t know AI from shit,” the voice said. “You smell good,” it added. “Your arse smells good.”

Mick grinned. The goddamn seat had sensors. This car was a thinker. Might even be an ESP. He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

“You sure have kept your little secret,” he said to the car.

“Call me Maz,” the car replied. “I’ve waited a long time for you to come along, pal. You handle my manual well,” he added. “I like a driver who appreciates my manual.”

“Well, where to now,then, ‘manual Maz’? We can’t go far. I gotta save up for shit chits.”

“Don’t need ‘em. We can go where we fucking like. I got an H2O convertor, 2988.”

They drove out of town and headed down the empty highway. Mick suddenly felt had a strange sensation in his pants, a warm flooding sensation as though he had -. Damn! He looked down. Nope. He was high and dry. Holy fuck. He _was_ high!

Maz giggled. “You got a girlfriend?’ he asked.

Mick grinned at the road ahead. “Nope.”

“You’re not gonna need one,” Maz said.

“Apparently not.”Mick absentmindedly  ran his hand up and down the gear stick. The flooding sensation in his pants increased.

“Holy fuck,” Maz exclaimed. “You’re gay!”

The gear lever began throbbing as Mick shifted into overdrive. The vibrations ran up his arm, zig-zagged from one nipple to the next, shot down through his chest and abdomen and erupted out of his cock. He pushed his foot to the floor. He practically lost control of Maz as they sped off the road, rocketed up a bank, and disappeared across the desert in a cloud.

“I had you covered, Mick.” Maz said, when Mick finished them both off in a series of 360s.

While Mick slept, and the stars twinkled like lights on a giant dash-board, Maz went through his music collection. The desert was suddenly filled with the sound of police sirens. Mick slept on oblivious.

“Fucking gay,” Maz said to the sky. “it just doesn’t get better than this!”


End file.
